Sound of Gas
That day, we were all busy: the burial, the inheritance; however, in each house, where one dies, suddenly, a grown child stands at the top of the stairs and looks around awkwardly as if he has to restore something; no one, of course, paid attention to him, and only the strange woman smiled at him as she placed the flowers inside the mysterious shadow where perhaps we had forever remained, and I remembered the room with the echo of gas when they hurriedly brought me in a child bloodied by the wheels of the car, the same woman had come in almost unnoticed, and then my eyes fell on the window where the curtains were in attention as if they also had to endure this.
